Hate, hate, hate. Loathe, despise, and HATE.
That's really what I wanted to say on my Xanga.
But that just seemed like too public a forum. I mean, there are people that actually read it. Far fewer here.
So, what prompts this paroxysm of contempt? Two words: middle school. Not the age; not the students. The "concept." I honestly don't mind working with this age group of kids — though I believe 6th graders should not be included in the middle school age; they should still be considered elementary school. Though not my preference, I have worked with them for 6 years in a more "junior high" setting, and it's really not bad. They can actually be kind of fun. And it's amazing what they can do with extra-curricular full-length popular plays (not the crap that's written for that age). But my point here isn't to pontificate about my educational philosophy. Suffice it to say, the middle school concept and I do NOT fit.
No, what I want to talk about is how much I was hating how my life was going. I quite literally don't know the words to describe the utter and complete despair I felt when I thought of teaching middle school again next year. That loathing despondency weighed me down and saturated my every waking (and some sleeping) moment. I frankly wondered if I would sink into real clinical depression if I had to teach in middle school again. And I hated myself for feeling this way. I mean, God is sovereign and it would have been the best for me. Yet I could not even bring myself to pray that He would change my heart so that I could embrace what He deemed best. I wanted nothing of it. Period.
I've tried to extricate myself from teaching, but God seems intent on keeping me doing it. Not that I mind, in a sense. I mean, I really do love teaching; I love thinking of myself as a teacher (lowly as that is); I love teaching theatre; I love the directing/play production end of it enormously; I love working with and getting to know the students (and maybe influencing them for the gospel in some small way). I love it too much. It consumes me. Completely. In just about every conscious moment my mind is on this or that aspect of teaching or theatre. I try as hard as I can to not let it interfere with my family life and my church life. I fail miserably. But as I've said before, this is what I do best and when I do it well, like Eric Liddell and his running, I feel the pleasure of God. He's shut all other doors, it seems, and boxed me in. At this point, I can't NOT teach theatre.
So, I am happy — and humbled — that God brought along the job at Lassiter HS. I don't deserve it considering the attitude I've had. Yet, this seems to make it fairly clear to me what He wants me to do. And there is truly no other school that I know of where I'd rather teach. Come September, the bloom may fall off the rose like lead through the vacuum of space, but right now it looks like the most unwarranted mercy and favor of God. It seems appropriate to plagiarize myself and end this with the last paragraph of the Xanga post mentioned above:
I am most grateful to God for bringing this my way. I certainly don't feel I deserve it, but I'll take it anyway. "God loves me, and He gave me something wonderful!" — Norman Cornell
